


El Ray Rhapsody

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Once Upon a Time in Mexico (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-22
Updated: 2003-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for The Vampire Sands</p>
    </blockquote>





	El Ray Rhapsody

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Vampire Sands

 

 

Note: El Ray is mentioned in From Dusk till Dawn, what I assume to be a place of paradise for fugitives and outlaws. Also, not really a pairing Im good at writing, and I apologize for the awkwardness.

Disclaimers: Miramax, Dimensions, Sony Pictures etc, Robert Rodriguez, the film crew 

Halfway down the stairs he hears the gunshots, low yet clear, like the popping sound that a soda can makes when opened, pop, pop, methodical, unrushed, fingers of infinite patience on that trigger, squeeze, pop, squeal, and another rat falls dead. 

The stench is not so bad as he imagined, the boy mustve been here often, cleaning out the rat corpses, bringing fresh provisions C gunpowder, food, and clothing. Loyalty and diligence seem an inherent part of the child, never has he received a kind word of gratitude or encouragement from the American agent, yet he persists, face shiny with pleasure and perspiration as he climbs in and out of this rat nest. 

Cash for service. Sands had said, civility does not enter into the equation. 

Weeks ago, when Se?ora Valdes pled for his help on the streets, he had not expect to happen upon a hollow-eyed half-crazed CIA agent stumbling around Se?oras house, shooting the small number of furniture into pieces, attempting to exorcise the pain from his gunshot wounds into making more gunshot wounds. The young Valdes apparently had brought the man home a day earlier. Trouble started when the drugs wore off. The man was barely alive, weak from fever and dying from wound infections, face pale as a mask, yet in motion, body jerking forward through a circular path of destruction around the closed living quarters. 

To this day he still marvels at the fact that Sands didnt seem to let go of his guns even when unconscious, fingers never abandoning the desperate clutch. It made him remember, how years ago, him lying in an alleyway, bleeding, feverish, the world growing dark before his eyes, the pavement cold and hard beneath his back, the hot steel his only comfort in the dark, but its cooling, cooling, the world darker, darker, yet he clings to it, the feel of it in his grasp brings him out of the feverish dreams, makes him stand again, makes him crawl, gun barrel scraping on the pavement, a reminder, there are unused bullets in the chamber, bullets for those that kill love and hope. He returned to life because of the need of vengeance, the same fire now burns inside the body of the agent. 

The second he put his foot down again on the stairs he feels the enveloping silence in the air, in his minds eye he sees the pistol awaiting. Sands has a deadly aim, one that became much refined from his sport of rat shooting. He knows that Sands does not shoot because his ears had learned the delicate difference between footsteps. 

I need your help. He says, crouching down on the stairs, just out of shooting range yet close enough to be heard. 

And you think I would be interested because? 

El Ray. He says, pausing briefly to let it sink in, Im taking down El Ray. 

Well, comes the day when a man must toil his path of insanity alone. 

He sighs. He expected resistance, yet he was still foolish enough to believe that perhaps it would not be too difficult. El Ray is a difficult mission. He knows. Lorenzo and Fideo would make better partners. This he also knows. El Mariachi is too well known around these parts, the appearance of three men with guitars will raise too much suspicion. Sands can enter El Ray as a renegade agent on the run, as an outlaw he would be accepted. Of course, theres the interesting question of how Sands would react to El Ray. 

You will not be in any danger. 

Still failing to see why I should bounce with glee at the prospect of helping you. 

You will get a chance to shoot at things other than rats. 

Silence. 

He cannot explain why he half-dragged half-carried the man to this local church basement that day. Pity only takes you so far. What he told himself that day was that he had killed, and killed, and for all the lives of men he had taken, he will give back a life. So he cleaned the man up, stripped him of his bloodied clothing, carefully sponged and wiped away the sores and the dried blood, sponging the entire body with warm water, uncovering pale smooth skin everywhere his hands traveled. Removal of the bullets embedded in the arms and thighs was difficult, but a process he was familiar with, one that he had to practice many times on himself, half-fainting with pain and blood loss. After which he bandaged whatever he can. 

There was a clear tan-line on those thighs, golden-brown legs beneath the line, and paleness above, he remembers tracing the line with his fingers, half entranced, half horrified by his reaction towards that naked, fevered-hot body, a hand grabbed his wrist when he startled himself into good sense, forcing his palm to linger, a hoarse voice moaning about the coldness in the room, about needing, needing, so much needing, so he lingered, letting his hand wander smoothly over that silky skin, massaging warmness into the muscles, and kissing, kissing the parched lips, first in comfort, then in heat, kissing the cheek, holding in the shivers, covering the shivering body with his own, and grasping that dusty, sticky long hair, and kissing the neck, the shoulder, and down. 

What is the real reason you want me in El Ray? 

Because you need a reason to live. He thinks. But does not say. Like I did. Because Im tired of unable to save people, save those I love. 

Because you have a good aim. He says. And knows that his words will not have much effect. 

Alright, fuck it, Ill go dance the jig with you, who knows, might be fun getting the rest of me shot up for the heck of it. 

The voice was right beside his ear. 

A favor for a favor. Sands then says, in all fairness of the trade, dont really have the right to say no to you, El. 

And theres the hand, dragging him into the darkness. 

The end. 

 


End file.
